Fire Fight
by AnotherJounin
Summary: Hughs tries matchmaking for Roy. A troubled blonde lieutenant sparks the Flame Achemist's interest, but what is her secret? The origins of RoyxRiza. Chapter 5 FINALLY POSTED MAY 11!
1. Default Chapter

Ed's coat is red, Roy's is blue, I don't own FMA, so please don't sue.

**Fire-Fight**

"Tara-chan dump you?" Maes asked.

"I don't want to talk about it," Roy said, picking at his lunch. _So I missed our date. Didn't she understand that my job is important? It was only...twice?_

"Ano...Do you mind if I sit here?"

Roy looked up. A young female lieutenant, blonde hair neatly pinned up, stood by one of the chairs at their table.

"Please do," Maes said politely, kicking Roy under the table.

Roy winced at this, but did nothing. Maes shot him a look, one that Roy was becoming all too familiar with.

"So, Lieutenant Hawkeye?" Maes began.

"Hai, Captain Hughes?" she said quietly, cutting up her salad.

"What's it like, working with Major Nialsen?" Maes asked.

"He's hard but fair," Hawkeye said, not looking up from her plate. "I have to walk long hours, but I enjoy my work."

The entire speech was given in a monotone, which distantly set off alarms in Roy's head, but it was none of his business.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye, if you're interested, I could work out a transfer," Maes said.

The lieutenant's fork clattered to her plate, then she picked it up, expressionless. "Thank you, Captain, but my work is essential in my department and I could not leave it."

"If you ever change your mind, Lieutenant, please feel free to talk to me," Maes said.

"Thank you, sir."

_The cafeteria food's worse than ever,_ Roy thought, pushing his mashed potatoes around on his plate, only half listening to the conversation at hand.

By the next day, he had forgotten it, and would have forgotten it for quite some time, had he not had to check out an inter-departmental memo. _Why do some people never sign the same way twice? How am I supposed to hold up my end of things, if I can't tell who signed?_ Roy thought angrily, staring so intently at the offending memo, that he was not watching where he was going. Suddenly, he was sitting on the floor. The Lieutenant from the previous day, what was her name? Falcon? No, Hawkeye. "Sorry, Lieutenant," he said.

But she was not listening to his apology, she was clutching her left arm with an expression of intense pain.

"I'm sorry," Roy said again, picking up the paperwork that she'd dropped and stacking it neatly.

"Thank you," she said at last. "It was my fault, I'm sorry." She took the papers, then let Roy help her up. She still looking pained.

"Are you all right?" Roy asked, concerned. _We didn't collide that hard_...

"I'm fine," she said. "I slipped a few days ago and it still hurts."

"Maybe you should go to the infirmary and get it checked out," Roy said.

"No, I'm fine, thanks," she said quickly and was gone.

Roy watched her leave, then headed back to his office. It was not until he returned that he realized he'd accidentally given the Lieutenant his memo.

"Major Nialsen's offices?" the young enlisted man scratched his head. "Eto, I think it's in corridor D..."

Roy looked at the man's uniform. "Thanks, Private..."

"Fury, sir," the bespectacled private said, sounding almost apologetic.

"Private Fury," Roy repeated and left.

Major Nialsen's offices were those of the Quartermaster and Supply for Central and they were almost painfully quiet. Only one of the four desks in the main room was occupied, by a master-sergeant who came to attention the moment Roy entered.

"At ease," he said quickly.

"Can I help you, sir?" he asked quietly.

Something about him struck Roy as strange, a sort of nervous intensity. "When will Lieutenant Hawkeye be back?" he asked.

The master-sergeant's frown deepened. "I don't know, sir. May I take a message for you?"

"I got one of my memos mixed up in a stack of hers," Roy said. "I'd be grateful if she'd have it returned at her earliest possible convenience to Captain Roy Mustang."

The NCO seemed to relax a little at this. "Of course, sir."

Roy hesitated. He didn't know what made him ask what he did next. "Tell her to stop by the infirmary and get checked out, we had a bit of a collision in the corridor."

The NCO sighed. "I'll tell her, sir."

With that, Roy left.

(Insert line break here)

In the privacy of the women's restroom, Riza took an aspirin and carefully moved her arm. Full range of motion was painful, but possible. That done, she picked up her papers and walked back to the offices. "Anything happen while I was out?" she asked Farman.

"Captain Mustang says you have a memo of his in your paperwork," Farman said, then hesitated. "He also told me that you should stop by the infirmary."

"Thank you, Master-Sergeant," Riza said, rummaging through the stack of papers, and finding the missing memo. "Would you mind taking this to him? I'll continue working on the request-list for the 9th battalion while you do that."

"Hai," Farman said, taking the memo.

"RIZA!"

They both nearly jumped at the shout from Major Nialsen's office.

"Go," Riza said simply.

Farman opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and left.

Riza opened the door to the Major's office.

"Shut the door! Riza! What the Hell were you thinking filling the request list for 'C' Company!" Major Nialsen asked, moustache trembling in anger, face nearly purple in colour.

_If I left the door open...no. _Riza swallowed hard. "Sir, the request was marked urgent and the majority of the items were of a medical nature, I thought-"

"You damn well thought wrong!" Nialsen snapped, pounding a meaty fist against the table for emphasis. "I thought you learned from last time, but I see you're a slow learner, Riza."

"Sir, I was following established guid-"

"I don't care what the hell you thought you were following!" he roared. "You will do as I say and 'C' Company will get their supplies when I say so and not before!"

Riza shrank back against the door as Nialsen stood up from behind his desk. He was a powerfully built giant of a man. _I'll scream and Farman- no, Farman's running the memo...I'll open the door...no, I'm standing against it... the window? Third floor, no..._

He approached her and slammed a hand down on her injured shoulder. It was all she could do to keep from crying out. "Do we have an understanding, Riza? Or are you going to have to learn through the school of hard knocks? Again?"

_You bastard!_ Riza bit her lip. "I'm sorry, sir" she whispered. "It won't happen again."

"I didn't hear you, Riza!"

"It won't happen again," she repeated, fractionally louder.

"Ah?" his grip on her shoulder tightened.

"_Itai_...It won't happen again, sir," she gasped out.

"Good," he said, then walked back to his desk. "Now be a good girl, dry your eyes and get back to work."

_I won't cry in front of you, you bastard!_ she thought but said nothing, fleeing the major's office to the main office. She sat down at her desk, then the shaking took her and she buried her face in her hands. _Nervous energy... I just need to breathe, _she tried to tell herself, but breathing wasn't easy. Tears were welling up in her eyes now, tears of pain and anger. _One day, Major Brian Nialsen, you will pay for what you've done!_

"Lieutenant."

Riza stiffened for a moment, then recognized the voice. "Master-Sergeant Farman."

A handkerchief was placed on her desk in front of her and she took it gratefully.

"Ma'am, this can't continue," Farman said tiredly. "I should..."

"No, Master-Sergeant," Riza finished wiping her eyes. "You know we can't."

"I don't care what happens to me!" Farman said tersely. "If it means that he can't hurt you any more-"

"No," Riza insisted. "Worry about yourself." With that, she picked up the request list for the ninth battalion and prepared to go to work as though nothing had happened.

Farman sighed his disapproval. "Ma'am this can only get worse," was his parting comment as he picked up his own list and began checking it against their inventory.

(Insert Line break here)

"You need to get married," Maes said.

Roy did his best to ignore the comment and concentrate on his paperwork. "I'm married to my career," he said, once Maes had repeated himself a few times.

"Your career isn't waiting for you when you come home at night!" Maes said. "I have a beautiful wife to come home to," he said, displaying his latest photo. "Isn't she gorgeous? And our children will be beautiful too! She's so kind and beauttiful- I'm so lucky! Roy, doesn't that make you want to get married?"

"No," Roy said shortly, resisting with growing difficulty, the temptation to incinerate Maes.

"I wonder if Lieutenant Hawkeye is spoken for?" Maes thought aloud. "You two would make a cute couple."

_Maes__ playing Happy Matchmaker- if he doesn't quit soon..._Roy thought, fingers twitching.

"But she's an odd mix," Maes continued. "She's the best shot in Central, I've heard and she doesn't suffer fools lightly. Except for her boss."

Something about the way Maes said that made Roy look up. From what he'd seen of her, the lieutenant appeared to be a shy, rather retiring creature, certainly not someone that Maes would describe as 'an odd mix'.

Noticing Roy's interest, Maes continued. "Almost everyone in Corridor D seems to know that Major Nialsen isn't the best of people to be working for."

"Well, he can't be the worst," Roy said,dropping all pretense of being busy and engaging in the scuttlebutt that was so integral to military life.

Maes looked dubious. "I'm not sure about that. When I drank with Farman and his friends, he mentioned that the Major seemed to have it in for the poor lieutenant."

Roy frowned. "What do you mean?"

Maes shrugged. "He didn't say much else, he's not a very talkative drunk."

"I see." _Maybe I should have a little chat with the lieutenant?_

"She's usually at the target range if she's not in her office," Maes said as though reading his mind.

In fact, Hawkeye was the only one at the target range, Roy found, when he went down after checking the office. She'd removed her jacket, and Roy though she looked more womanly without it. It might have had something to do with the fact that she was wearing a black, longsleeve turtleneck that flattered both her figure and colouration. But her weapon check before she began was very professional.

"Keeping sharp, lieutenant?" he asked, when he reached the bottom of the stairs that led to the target range.

"Yes sir," she said simply. "I don't think I've seen you down here before," she commented casually.

"I prefer to use alchemy, rather than conventional weapons," Roy explained. _That other time..._ He clenched his fingers to keep them from shaking. _Focus!_ "Do you mind if I watch?"

"Not at all," she replied, loading her handgun and putting on her ear-defenders and letting loose.

_Small arms fire was a backdrop to that nightmare. They stood there, frightened, yet resigned, neither tried to plead for their lives. The woman clutched the photograph. "Winry," she whispered. Her husband hugged her tightly._

_"Do it!"_

_His hand was shaking horribly, but he fired, two headshots. They died instantly, but that was no comfort to him, the shots echoed in his mind over and over again as he stared at the slowly spreading crimson. He thought he would faint at first, then remembered to breathe. He remained standing, but he still felt sick. Little spots of darkness danced across his vision, but behind them was the ever-increasing red. Two lives gone forever. The red was growing darker._

"Drink this, sir, you'll feel better," a distant voice said. Then with a rush, he was back in the present. Lieutenant Hawkeye had put a cup of water in his hand. Obediently he drank it, but he didn't think he felt better.

"What happened?" he asked quietly, noticing now that he was sitting down on one of the hard plastic chairs by the telephone, behind where the shooters would be standing.

"I don't know," she said. "You nearly collapsed. Are you sick?"

"No," he said. At Hawkeye's doubtful look, he amended that. "It's not physical anyway. And it doesn't happen often." _At least, not any more._

"Next time, you might want these," she said, holding up a pair of ear defenders, then walking over to her booth and hitting the control to bring her target in. She inspected it critically.

From where Roy sat it looked good, yet the lieutenant only sighed.

"I'm going to try again," she said, reloading her handgun. "If you want to stay, put on the ear-defenders."

Roy did so and watched. The lieutenant was only firing with her right hand, he noticed, and wondered why. He'd been told that two-handed firing was much more stable, but she must have had her reasons. Then he remembered their collision in the corridor. _Left arm again and she's wearing longsleeves in May...her superior has it in for her..._ "Well shot," he said, looking at her target. Then he looked at his watch. _If I can confirm this, Major Nialsen will be... inconvenienced._ _The easiest thing would of course be if she confirmed it, but from the way she refused Maes' offer of a transfer it seems that she's too scared. In that case. _"I'd better be going now," he said, taking off the ear defenders. "Thank you for letting me watch."

Please Review!


	2. Chapter Two

First, I would like to thank all of my reviewers! You guys really make my day and I love reading what you think of my story:) If you like this chapter, please review!

My responses

not so Angelic Antics – No, this story isn't really intended to be AU, any more than any fanfic is an AU ;) I guess I should have warned that some material in here might be a spoiler if you haven't seen the entire series. Well, everyone, consider this your warning. I don't think there will be much else, but I'm not sure and I don't want to keep adding warnings. Without further chatter from the author, what you've been waiting for!

**Fire Fight- Breaking Point**

"Master-Sergeant Farman," Roy called, spotting the man he was looking for in the busy corridor.

The NCO stopped walking and turned to face him. "Can I help you, sir?" he frowned.

Roy closed the distance between them before speaking. "We need to talk," he said simply.

"Is it urgent, sir?" Farman asked.

"It's about Lieutenant Hawkeye."

"Is she all right?" Farman asked quickly.

"She is now," Roy said. "The question is will she be?"

Farman stiffened. "I don't understand, sir," he said, but the tone of his voice made it very clear that he thought he did and didn't like it.

"Let's walk and talk," Roy said.

Outside, the earlier warmth of the day was starting to fade, though the sun had still not yet set. They walked to the perimeter of the base before Roy spoke. "Why does Lieutenant Hawkeye wear longsleeves in May?" Roy asked quietly.

"I don't understand, sir," Farman repeated.

"You've said this before," Roy said sternly, turning to face him. "Master Sergeant, I am trying to help, but I need to know things so I _can_ help. Do you understand now?"

Farman looked relieved. "Thank you, sir. At first I thought you were- never mind..." then his frown returned. "But I can't tell you about the Lieutenant. I have to respect her wishes."

"Which are what?" Roy pressed.

Farman said nothing.

"Master Sergeant," Roy tried another tact. "You saw action before your transfer to Central?"

"Yes, sir," Farman said, looking slightly confused.

"If a comrade of yours were injured but asked you not to tell a medic, and I mean so seriously injured that they did not know what they were saying, what would you do?"

Silence for a long moment. "Point taken, sir," Farman said at last. "But... I don't know everything about her situation. Like what he's holding over her head."

"He's blackmailing her?"

Farman smiled grimly. "Do you think anyone would stay in that situation if they had a choice? But it's a long story."

"I have time."

An agreement was reached and the story would be a small price to pay for the simple dinner, sandwiches from a nearby deli instead of going to the mess for dinner.

"I started working in Quartermaster's and Supply after I was posted to Central," Farman began after he had eaten half of his sandwich. "I'm a candidate for the Warrant Officer program and scuttlebutt has it that Central is the place to be if you're serious about getting a promotion. Upon arrival, I was almost immediately forced to use two weeks of compassionate leave to look after my great-aunt in the West. Since I was going that way, it was suggested that I take care of some business for Central, nothing strenuous, just hand over some papers, smile and nod at their requests, that kind of thing" Farman sighed. "It seemed so easy, and it was, until I got back here and had to fill out an expenses form. I realized I'd lost the receipts, and instead of doing the smart thing and owning up, I..." Farman looked down and spoke more quietly. "I forged my receipts. I didn't go overboard, if anything, I underreported my expenses, but it was an Honour Code violation. If it came to light, I would never get into the Warrant Officer program." He picked up the other half of his sandwich, ate a few bites and put it down. "It was stupid," he sighed. "And somehow, Nialsen found out. He's strange that way, he can find out anything about anyone and once he knows what you're afraid of, he hangs it over your head for as long as you're with him. And no one stays with him long if they can help it. That officer that they had to institutionalize a few months back was a direct result of Nialsen. He was Lieutenant Hawkeye's predecessor."

_Some day, I will be in a position to see that this does not happen,_ Roy thought, in the awkward silence that followed. "Master Sergeant, I'm going to give you a number I can be reached at, at any time," Roy said, scribbling down the red line number of his office, not the ordinary one, on a napkin. "Since someone's in all the time, they can get to me quickly," he explained, handing it to Farman. "Thank you for your help in this regard."

Farman nodded, acknowledging that he had heard what was said, but he still looked troubled. After a moment, he spoke. "Sir, I care about the lieutenant," he said. Hastily, he clarified, guessing Roy's thoughts. "Not like that, sir. She's like a younger sister to me, but unlike a younger sister, I can't tell her what to do, because she out-ranks me," he sighed. "This is all I can do, and if she doesn't ask for your help, then it's all for nothing. Sir, the whole receipt mess will never happen again, but I'll face the consequences," he swallowed. "Whatever they are."

"Don't worry about that, Farman," Roy said. "Just keep me informed. Anything we can use against Nialsen, we will."

"Sir…" Farman began, then seemed to think better of what he was going to say.

"Out with it, man," Roy said.

"Why are you doing this?" Farman asked, a little of the old suspicion back, but not much. "Is it because the lieutenant-"

"It's part of my job as an officer," Roy said. "I don't care who he's trying to hurt, the lieutenant, you, Private Fury, it _isn't _allowed," he said.

"You mean that," Farman said, sounding almost slightly surprised.

"I mean it," Roy repeated, put his jacket back on and got ready to leave.

"I would be proud to serve an officer like you," Farman said, so quietly that Roy almost missed it.

Line break here

Riza stared critically at her second target. _These new angles are playing merry hell with my aim,_ she thought angrily. _If I keep practicing, I'll get them eventually, but..._her aching shoulder throbbed dully. _I'm not used to firing one handed, I can't any more today. _She sighed. Usually she tried for at least three targets a day, one of the best advantages to joining the military was the free ammunition. _I'm going to have to practice firing with just my left too, when I can again,_ she thought. _I really should have been all along and sacrificed speed and stability of fire for versatility._ With such cheerful thoughts in mind, she cleaned, loaded and holstered her weapon, then put on her jacket again. She glanced at her watch. _5:30_... _It should be safe to go back by now._ She felt guilty about leaving an hour early, but Farman had come as close to insisting as he could, given that she out-ranked him. _And if I hadn't forgotten my purse, I could go right home now..._she thought, climbing the stairs. _If they just put the same number of pockets in blues as they do in the field kit, or even put just the two pockets in the female uniform, like they have in the male one, I wouldn't have this problem, _she thought, reaching the top of the stairs and stepping out into the crowded corridor. Most people were getting off of work, a few unfortunates were starting the evening shift for critical departments.

_If I'm quick and quiet, this shouldn't be a problem, _Riza thought, cracking open the door to the main office. All clear, but the major's office door was slightly open. She opened the door and tiptoed into the room. She heard voices in Nialsen's office, conversing amicably. _Maybe they won't notice..._ Riza thought hopefully, then she stepped on a squeaky floorboard and froze by her desk.

"You have mice or something?" the Major's door was pushed further open and an unfamiliar man in civilian clothing stared at her, then whistled. "Rank has its privileges, Nialsen? You lucky dog, you didn't tell me you have a cute secretary!"

Riza clutched her purse tightly. _Too late to run..._

"You like her?" Major Nialsenasked lazily, coming into view. "I know Riza has a busy social life, but I'm sure she can be accommodating to you, if you can deal with my schedule."

"Sure, sure," the man said, smiling. "Just as you say, you can pay me back whenever."

_He's too busy staring at me to know what he's saying,_ Riza thought. _What did Nialsen just say? _She tried to make it make sense, but the words wouldn't line up. She felt as though she was thinking through cotton wool.

"So _Riza_..."

_Don't use my name lightly you trash!_ Riza thought, as what had happened began to sink in- was hammered in by his next words.

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	3. Chapter Three

**Fire Fight**

"So _Riza_..."

_Don't use my name lightly you trash!_ Riza thought, as what had happened began to sink in- was hammered in by his next words.

"Are you busy tonight?"

"Of course she's not!" Major Nialsen laughed. "Don't be so shy, Riza, we're not exclusive!"

_We're nothing, you bastard..._ Riza thought, feeling at least as tired as she did outraged. But the outrage subsided, though the tiredness remained, and a strange calm feeling began to accompany it. Distantly, Riza heard the man's enthusiastic chatter, something about the opera at nine, and Nialsen's admonition to wear her nicest ("Longsleeve- haha!") dress. _So it's come to this..._ Riza thought, not listening._ Major, just as you told me then, everyone has a dirty little secret. Since then, I've made a discovery. Everyone has a breaking point. _Riza smiled, not in response to anything that the two of them had said, it was a small almost secret smile. _Congratulations, Major, you've found mine. You'll wish you hadn't._

Somehow, she made a polite excuse and walked home. Wearily, she changed out of her uniform, feeling tears threaten as she hung it up neatly. _I remember when I was proud to wear it,_ she thought as she changed into her civilian clothes. Her short sleeved tee-shirt did not cover the ugly mass of bruises on her left arm. She touched it gently, it was still painful. And then she began to cry, silently. She hadn't really cried since the first night of OCS, when her decision had finally sunken in, but later, at graduation, she did not regret those tears. They had meant something in the end. But these tears were tears of anger too long pent up, and of fear.

When they finally slowed to a trickle, Riza had made up her mind. _He has no hold on me if I'm dead… this doesn't seem right, but I will never stoop so low as to obey Nialsen's every whim,_ Riza thought. _Disobeying an order… that was how he got a hold over me in the first place…_ she pushed those memories away. She picked up the telephone, glad that she didn't have to go out into the hall and possibly face stares from other people in the apartment building. Hesitantly, she dialed the number.

"Barracks Two, can I help you sir or ma'am?" a man answered.

"This is Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye calling to speak to Master Sergeant Farman," she sniffed slightly.

"Please hold, ma'am."

Riza picked up a new tissue and threw the used one in the bin across the room. _That's something I can do one handed_, she thought bitterly.

"Master Sergeant Farman reporting, ma'am."

Riza sighed in relief. "I'm glad you weren't out, Farman," she began hesitantly. "I just wanted to call and say that I'm sorry that I left you with so much work today. I won't ever do that again... Please forgive me for that." _And for what I'm about to do._

"Ma'am, there's nothing to forgive," Farman sounded worried. "Are you all right?"

"I will be," Riza assured him. "And... please don't be angry with me, Farman."

"About what, ma'am?" Farman sounded confused.

"Anything," Riza hedged. "So, I'll...see you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow, ma'am," Farman repeated.

"Bye," Riza hung up. She took her pistol out of its holster and decided it could use a good cleaning, one last time. _And then, I have a note to write_.

"You're being unusually industrious, Flame," Captain O'Toole, Roy's roommate called up to Roy's bunk, which currently resembled a desk more than a bunk from the amount of paperwork strewn about on it.

"And you're not being industrious enough, Weaver," Roy said, referring to O'Toole's alchemist title. "Don't you have a promotion board coming up? You should study for it."

Muttering from O'Toole clearly said what he thought of the promotion board and for a little while, silence reigned as O'Toole presumably studied, and Roy tried to understand the Quartermaster and Supply files he'd requested. _This is why I hate paperwork, someone adds thirty and thirty and gets ninety. And why don't they use a lined ledger? What battalion is that supposed to be? 5th? 6th? It looks more like a squiggle than anything else. How many bootlaces did they request?_ His head was hurting from the writing, but a suspicion was beginning to be confirmed.

There was a knock at the door. Captain O'Toole, his roommate sighed and got up to answer it. "Roy, phone for you," he said after a moment.

Now it was Roy's turn to sigh. If it was Maes calling to cancel their card game tonight, he would be annoyed. "Hai, coming," he muttered, jumping down from the top bunk. _When I'm a major, I'm going to have phone installed in my room._

But it was not Maes. "Sir?"

"Farman?" Roy frowned. "What's wrong?"

"It's Lieutenant Hawkeye, sir," he said quickly. "I think she's going to do something stupid, she started apologizing and... I'm worried, sir. Would you please check on her? We're being inspected in about two minutes and we all have to be here or I'd go myself."

"What's her address?" Roy asked, stealing the notepad and pen from the currently unmanned lobby desk.

Hawkeye did not live in the best neighbourhood in Central, Roy decided and it was too far of a walk if it was urgent. _I wonder why she doesn't live on-base?_

"O'Toole, I need to borrow your car," Roy said, returning to his room.

"What?" O'Toole frowned. "Absolutely not, do you have any idea how much I paid for it?"

"I understand if you don't feel like lending it, but it's for a good cause," Roy said solemnly.

"Hah. The good cause of your social life."

Roy tried a different tact. "You should be studying anyway."

"I'm nearly done," O'Toole retorted.

"Ah, well, in that case, I certainly wouldn't dream of touching your car," Roy said thoughtfully. "Do you have fire-insurance?"

O'Toole threw the keys at him. "It better be for a worthy cause and you better not wreck it!"

Review!

Author's note time! Again, thanks to everyone who reviewed, and I'll just let you guys know that a good way to get me to update soon is to leave me reviews!;) I'm a hopeless review junkie…

Please let me know what you thought of this chapter, a few of you seemed to have guesses as to what would happen next, were you on or not? What do you think will happen next:)


	4. Chapter Four

To all my reviewers- a very big THANK YOU:) For your reviews! If any of you have any constructive criticism, further thoughts on any aspect of this story, that's what the review box is all about and I welcome, though perhaps I don't listen to them all!;) See the AN at the bottom of this chapter. Also, I'm trying to divide POV shifts with XWXWXW It may or may not work..

That said, on to the bit you've been waiting for!

**Supporting Fire**

Riza had always liked the design of her CFP Officer's Special, it was an easy gun to like, easy to clean, easy to buy ammo for, and very nearly indestructible, nothing like her first gun, she thought, loading it. _But there are three parts to every shot, the shooter, the weapon and the target,_ she mused, gingerly rubbing her injured arm. Though it would heal, she knew that that if she did nothing, one day she'd have broken bones, if not worse. Riza looked at her note, neatly folded up on the table. She'd finally committed that mistake to paper, everyone would know what she had done, but she wouldn't be alive to face it or them. She'd written down everything that Nialsen had said and done to her or to Farman that she could remember, anything and everything that could see him hang were he ever to go to trial. Every trick he'd used on the books went down in that letter too. She'd apologized to Farman and Captain Hughes who had tried to help her. After she'd written it, she briefly debated going to the opera and killing the man Nialsen had ordered her to go out with, but had decided against it. _I am not a tool of vengeance, of retribution,_ she thought tiredly. _That is not my job and that would be giving them something they don't deserve, a quick death… _

She stood, and walked to the north wall of her apartment. There was no window on that wall. She knelt, handgun in her lap. _All I can do is set myself free. _Riza picked up the Special, it had never felt so heavy before. She put the barrel to her head, but her hand was shaking. She sighed and tried the breathing exercises to calm herself before she put her finger on the trigger. Someone was knocking on the door, she tried to ignore it. _Just breath, be calm…if that's my 'date' he's in for one hell of a shock_, she thought and the thought made her smile slightly. _So why are there tears in my eyes?_

XWXWXW

Roy pounded on the door. "Lieutenant Hawkeye? Open the door! Open the door, or I will!" _Maybe she's just out._ But a strange gut instinct, similar to the one he got with Maes sometimes was insisting otherwise. _If she is out, I'll apologize to her later_, he decided, snapping his fingers, and incinerating the lock. He kicked the door inwards.

XWXWXW

Riza gasped in surprise at the noise of the door swinging back and hitting the wall. Instantly, she spun to face the intruder, Special in her right hand.

"Don't shoot," Captain Mustang said, holding his hands up.

Riza sighed in relief. "Captain," she stood. "Why are you here, and what did you do to my door?"

XWXWXW

Somehow that wasn't the response Roy was expecting. He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting, but that hadn't been it. He felt curiously out of place for a moment, like a little boy being scolded for breaking a neighbour's fence, then he noticed that Hawkeye had been crying. Awkwardly, he began speaking. "Sergeant Farman told me you'd called and he was worried," Roy explained. "He would be here too, but he has an inspection."

"He shouldn't have said anything," Hawkeye sighed. "There's nothing wrong, sir," she said, holstering her weapon.

Roy saw a nasty bruise on her left arm. "Lieutenant, you didn't get that from your slip in the corridor, did you?" he frowned. _No one does that and gets away with it!_ The momentary intense anger he felt was almost frightening. _It's horrible, but why is it affecting me like this?_

"I'm clumsy, sir," Hawkeye said in response to his question.

"Does your clumsiness in any way relate to why you've cleaned your gun?" Roy asked, gesturing to the little kit that Hawkeye had left out on the table by the note- addressed "To Whom It May Concern" in fine, neat handwriting.

"All weapons should be properly cared for," she said easily. "Now, if you'll excuse me, sir," she said.

_This could all be a coincidence,_ Roy thought. _Just habit that she cleans her gun every night, just a bad fall that gave her those bruises..._ but his thoughts were drawn to that neatly folded little note. _And that? No, that's pushing coincidence too far,_ he thought. _But if she won't talk to me..._ "Lieutenant, he has to be stopped." _A hit,_ he thought as Hawkeye stiffened almost imperceptibly. Encouraged by this small sign, Roy continued. "I want to stop him, but I can't do it by myself. You can't stop him by yourself, and if he is not stopped, Lieutenant, _someone else will be in the same position you are now_."

She flinched at these words as though at a blow.

"You're not a coward, Hawkeye, don't act like one. If we work together, we can bring him down," Roy finished. For a second, he thought he'd pushed too hard as Riza closed her eyes and Roy prepared to be thrown out or threatened with the gun. But Riza did neither. Instead, had Roy not slowed her descent, she would have collapsed to the floor. "Lieutenant!" Roy called, alarmed.

She opened her eyes. "Sir?" she whispered.

"What's wrong?" Roy asked quickly, pushing the fact that they were in very close proximity to each other to the far back of his mind.

"I...I'm just dizzy," she insisted.

"You didn't take any medications?" Roy demanded to know.

"N-no sir...just need to sit down for a minute."

Roy helped her sit down on the floor, propped up against the side of her bed, then crossed the room to her kitchenette, poured a glass of water and went back over to her. "As I recall, you said this helps," he smiled slightly.

"So does remembering to eat dinner," Hawkeye said after she'd taken a sip. "Sir... what you said- it made sense. I was about to do something selfish," she looked ashamed at this and would not meet his eyes. "I don't want anyone to go through what I did," she said, studying the wooden floor intensely. "And..." she hesitated. "I don't care what happens to me. I'll face my mistake, if it kills me. It would be worth it to see Nialsen pay."

"Are you being selfish again?" Roy asked.

"Sir?" Hawkeye looked up at this, confused.

"I'm sure there's someone who would care what happens to you," he said.

Hawkeye only smiled bleakly. "Yes, sir. I think I'm recovered enough to start making some dinner if you'd like to join me- if you can stomach dinner after reading that," she nodded in the direction of the note.

XWXWXW

_After he reads it, my career and probably my life will be over,_ Riza thought grimly as she began putting together a simple meal for two. _But somehow this is supposed to be worth it. Months of trial, retrial and testimony, rather than a quick exit...I can't watch him read it... I can't... _she thought desperately, concentrating hard on her task at hand.

PLEASE REVIEW AND MAKE MY MUSE VERY HAPPY!

A/N: To all those of you who took the time to tell me about rank structure, thanks for the thought. However, I will invoke my neat-o little artistic liscense and perhaps I should add a little note about such things in this story at least, being a bit AU. Although I have been informed that Major is the defacto rank of any/all National/State Alchemists, I will not be altering the story with regards to that for several reasons. 1. At the beginning I was unaware of that fact and now, I am not willing to change horses in midstream. I've never tried it but it sounds timeconsuming and possibly useless. 2. Even though I know this now, it will take a little while for my poor little brain to grow comfortable with the idea that Alchemists start out at major whereas all other officer types have to start out at 2nd Lt. 3. Unless there is a canon rank chart that people are referring to, I'm going to DIY it with my prior experience. The list that was given to me was extensive and exhaustive, very helpful, but not entirely put together. For example, I believe both First Sergeant and Sergeant Major were listed as ranks, when in fact, they are position. Using the positional rank logic, I can justify Alchemists being paygrade Majors, positional Captains. Kinda the reverse of me being a paygrade E7 and PR 'Officer'. Also, for future reference, should anyone read any more of my (soon to be published) FMA fanfic, I will be meddling with things slightly, ie, more sergeants, fewer warrant officers, adding 'Sublieutenant' and that's basically it.

So, if you're hugely offended by my detail error, feel free to rant/gripe about it, but I will not listen and will continue to wave my little artistic license.


	5. Chapter Five

_Author's Note- I realize this is really, horribly late and I am very, very sorry! RL was being...chaotic would put it too mildly... Anyway, here it is, hope you enjoy it and leave me a review! Reviews really do help me to update soon, this long absence was a very weird fluke. Oh, and if anyone is feeling very, very generous, I love fanart!_

**Sustained Fire**

_After he reads it, my career and probably my life will be over,_ Riza thought grimly as she began putting together a simple meal for two. _But somehow this is supposed to be worth it. Months of trial, retrial and testimony, rather than a quick exit...I can't watch him read it... I can't..._ she thought desperately, concentrating hard on her task at hand.

Suddenly, she smelled smoke. She whirled around, surprised. The note was rapidly being consumed by flames. "Sir?" she whispered, surprised.

Captain Mustang smiled and the fire died. The note was ash, but the tile on the table beneath it was barely singed. His smile was strange, Riza decided, but it was a smile none the less. "I don't want to read it," he said simply. "If you don't want to talk about it, I'm willing to let it go, or wait until you are ready to talk, but I'm not going to read it. I want to hear you tell me, with words better than the ones you wrote."

"Sir, once you know what I've done…" Riza began, but her voice trailed off uselessly. _I can't tell him- not now! If he knows what I've done..._

"If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to," Mustang said. "Whatever it was, it's in the past now, isn't it?" His eyes locked with hers, with such intensity that Riza had to look away to nod a 'yes'. "It can't hurt anyone but you, can it?" he asked softly.

"How do you know?" she asked, equally quietly. _How can he possibly know?_

A mirthless laugh. "Lieutenant, you can't possibly think you're the only one who's done something they regret in the past?"

_That look in his eyes..._ Riza felt shocked. _He knows... he carries his sin with him, just like I carry mine_. "I... I don't think I completely regret mine- I'm not sure-" she stumbled over her words. "Some good came of it, but..." she could not bring herself to continue.

He looked slightly surprised by this statement, then after a long moment, spoke. "Then I am glad to know that our mistakes are not the same." An almost smile.

_What was his mistake? _Riza wondered as she set the table. _Rumor has it that he's on the fast track for promotion. His mistake can't be widely known then…_ She served the food, first to her guest, then herself. "I lied about not regretting my mistake," she said hesitantly. "It's not entirely true, I still remember that..." she bit her lip and pushed that memory as far away as she could. "Do you remember yours clearly?" she asked. "Please tell me it's not just me- that I'm weakminded because I keep remembering..." she could not look at him, could not stand the weakness that made the tears well up in her eyes.

"No, you're not weak-minded," Mustang said, but Riza could not look up. He sighed. "I remember nearly every day. Sometimes it's worse than others. I wonder if it will ever go away. Talking helps though...without Maes- Captain Hughes- I would have died."

Riza looked up at this. _He nearly died? He nearly despaired too? But he seems so... confident- and distant, like nothing matters to him sometimes. Or does he keep that distance to keep himself safe? Is it pain, not arrogance that makes him that way? I'll have to watch more carefully._ Aloud she only said:"It must be...good to have friends," she tried a smile.

"You have Farman, don't you?" Mustang asked.

"I can't tell him everything," Riza said. "And the less he knows about that, the less he can say..." _I had the resolve to write that note, now I have to tell him…_ She bit her lip for a long moment, then finally spoke. "It happened two years ago. I was fresh out of OCS at my first posting, as green as they come. We were supposedly there to keep the peace in this fairly large border village- a not insubstantial portion wanted out of our country and their fellow citizens had tried taking matters into their own hands regarding the matter. _Then_ they decided that they couldn't manage and we were called in. For a while it seemed fairly conventional as peace-keeping went- then- "

XWXWXW

Riza was usually awake before reveille, but it wasn't usually because of distant gunfire. She dressed quickly and quietly and walked downstairs to visit the officer of the watch. To her mild surprise, he was sitting behind the desk in the foyer of the building that was being used for officer housing, and drinking his coffee.

"'Morning, Hawkeye," he said with a yawn.

"'Morning, Thorn," she returned. She and Thorn had been through OCS together and while they had not been friends, they didn't stand on much formality due to OCS. "What's the racket outside about?"

"Didn't you hear last night?" Thorn asked, looking surprised.

"Hear what?"

"The loyalists have decided to start taking out the anarchists on their lonesome," he grinned. "They're really doing our job for us. We've had an order come down to say we're not to interfere, this village is big enough that we could run into ambushes- and if local sentiment goes against us, they out-number and possibly outgun us," he frowned at that thought.

"Aren't we supposed to be here to do peace-keeping?" Riza frowned. "And aren't they breaking the peace?"

"Orders are orders," Thorn shrugged. "By the way, I snuck a peek at the roster, you're up next for officer of the watch. I suggest you double the gate-guards, apparently some of the anarchists would rather kiss and make up with Central than get killed by their neighbours."

"Wouldn't you?" Riza asked.

"Maybe," Thorn said carelessly.

XWXWXW

A mere two hours later, Riza was indeed officer of the watch. Given the current situation, she preferred to walk the perimeter of the encampment than to sit at a desk. She was armed, not only with her CFP, but with an issue K8, a 'Kate' as the men called the rifle. She hoped she wouldn't have to use either. There were four entrances to the encampment, each guarded by four guards- all of whom were needed, she saw, as men, women and children crowded all the gates. That sight bothered her, especially the children. At the eastern gate, the guards appeared to be near overrun, Riza noticed, quickening her pace as she walked towards the gate. The guards were ineffectually shouting at the people and one seemed to be on the point of using his rifle as a club.

"Hold!" Riza shouted.

The guard froze in midswing and grounded his rifle.

"I said 'hold' not 'ground'- are you hard of hearing?" Riza snapped, feeling unreasonably angry at this show of imperfect obedience. She looked at the crowd at the gate.

"Please let us in!"

"They'll kill us!"

Riza held up a hand for silence. "You-" she gestured to one of the men. "Tell me what's going on and do it quickly. The rest of you be quiet."

The man told, and Riza listened. Her expression was first guardedly neutral, and slowly she found she had to struggle to keep it that way. No matter how horrible, she had to look impassive. She looked at the guards, saw the sick horror on the faces of two of them, and grim looks of the other two. She looked at the man. He wasn't lying. "Sergeant Collins, I want you to tell Colonel Avery what this man told us. Word for word. Now."


End file.
